


The Gentlemen

by Fayaheda



Series: Teen Wolf Collection [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Lydia Martin, Bloody Violence, Creepy Songs, Demons, Dreaming, F/M, Gen, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, M/M, Magic, McCall Pack, Nightmares, Older Everybody, Screaming, Silence, Slightly Crack-Filled, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Strong Language, True Alpha Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayaheda/pseuds/Fayaheda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Can't even shout,<br/>Can't even cry,<br/>The Gentlemen are coming by...'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't Even Cry...

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just me ripping off the Buffy, season four, episode 'Hush' without actually trying to rip it off too much.
> 
> Also, because I fucking loved that episode. AND I'd LOVE to see the McCall pack in some of the effed up situations the Scooby Gang have already been through. And I can't be the only one, can I?

In the back of her mind, Lydia knows where she is. She's back in class. Only she doesn't remember actually getting there. Plus, she's pretty sure Scott, Stiles and Jordan don't attend U.C L.A University.

For whatever reason, that she can't actually think of, Lydia doesn't even bother to question just what the heck is going on here. In fact, she feels rather lethargic, oddly enough, like she hasn't been getting any sleep.

She simply sits in her seat at her desk, barely listens to Professor Charles, even though she's Lydia favourite professor of all time, while Scott and Stiles and the rest of the class listen silently, and intently.

"So, this is what it is. We're talking about communication. We're talking about language."

Jordan stands behind the professor, arms folded, but stance completely relaxed and his gaze fixed on the lazy redhead in the back row.

Lydia feels his eyes on her, looks back briefly at him, and now, she's paying a little attention to the words spilling easily from the professor's mouth.

"And don't forget, they are NOT the same thing." Professor Charles' gaze briefly drifts over the redhead. "It's about the way a child can recognise and produce phonemes that don't occur in it's native language. It's about inspiration, not the idea, but the moment before the idea, when it's total, when it blossoms in your mind and connects to everything before the coherent thought that gives it shape, that locks it in and cuts it off from the universe. When you can articulate it, it becomes smaller. It's about thoughts and experiences that we don't have a word for."

And Lydia gets that. She really does. She gets it whenever she looks at Jordan, got it whenever she used to look at Jackson, or simply just cuddle up on the couch with her mother and bottle of red wine for the night. And "normality" is a good place to start, she thinks, if I was forced to chose a word for it. Or maybe just "contentment". After all, for her and her friends, both of those are always a rarity.

"A demonstration, now... Ah, yes, Lydia."

Lydia's eyes widen as she looks up from her desk. "Me?"

"Thank you for volunteering." Professor Charles smirks slightly. "Please, come down to the front here." She says as she walks over to her desk with Jordan slowly following beside her.

Lydia does as she's told, albeit, reluctantly.

"A typical college girl, one assumes." Professor Charles says at the redhead now standing in front of her. "Please," She motions to the desk. "Lie down here."

"Wh-what?" Lydia's hesitant, and now she's starting to wonder just what fricking bizarro world did she wake up in today.

"Go ahead. You'll be perfectly safe." Professor Charles sends her student a reassuring smile.

Lydia, again, does as she's told. Although, she's highly flushed with embarrassment, especially as some of her classmates chuckle. And she's yet to see it turn much worse.

"Jordan," Professor Charles turns to him, still smiling warmly. "If you'd be so kind as to oblige?"

Jordan simply nods and moves towards the desk, stands hovering over the redhead. He's not quite looking at her, instead, seems to be glaring slightly at the professor.

"Jordan," Professor Charles scalds him slightly. "Be a good boy, now."

Jordan rolls his eyes at her, but when his eyes finally look down to meet the redhead's he can't help smiling.

"And so," Professor Charles goes on, addressing the rest of the class. ""A kiss is just a kiss." I believe that's how the line goes." She smiles over at the redhead. "The rest is up to you."

Lydia doesn't know what the heck is going on, but - "This all feels kind of strange..." She trails off with a heavy blush flooding her cheeks as she stares up at the deputy.

"Yeah." Jordan's smile widens slightly. "But don't worry. When I kiss you," He says, his voice quiet as he slowly leans forward. "It will make the Sun go down."

Lydia thinks that's an odd thing to say, but doesn't even bother to question it as he leans down and places his lips over hers.

Jordan ignores the ogling students and deepens their kiss. His hand falls to her hair, his fingers twisting gently.

Lydia's confusion only grows, however, still stays silent as he pulls away slowly and she sees that the Sun has indeed gone down. She glances around the now moonlit room, sees not one of the students, and they are alone, she realises.

"See?" Jordan arches a brow, his lips quirking into a cheeky, little grin.

"I guess fortune favours the brave..." Lydia mumbles, mostly to herself as she slowly sits up and hops off of the desk. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she can just about make out a tuneless humming. "Do you hear that?" She asks, glancing towards the opens doors leading down the corridors.

"I don't hear anything." Jordan says, but doesn't go to follow as she slowly shuffles towards the doors. He smiles to himself, rather proud as he watches her go. "And along came the spider..."

Lydia doesn't mean to ignore him, or leave him, but something is pulling her towards the sound of this soft human hum.

"Can't even shout..."

As Lydia approaches the corner of the corridor finally, the humming grows loud enough so that she can make it out to be a young girl singing.

"Can't even cry..."

Lydia turns the corner, sees a little girl with long, red hair, similar to her own. She stops, freezes in her spot not, but a few feet away from the girl who's back is facing her.

"The Gentlemen are coming by..."

Lydia simply listens, body ridged, and eyes filled with dread.

"Looking in windows, knocking on doors, they're gonna take seven, and they might take yours..."

Lydia doesn't know how or why, but she knows, she just fucking knows that she's heard this creepy-ass song before. And it's really NOT like her to forget something.

"Can't call to mom..."

Lydia's eyes widen, and she just fucking knows that this is a dream - nightmare now, because the little girl turns around wearing Lydia's eight year old face.

"Can't say a word..."

Eight year old Lydia stares vacantly up at twenty-three year old Lydia as she ends her song with; "You're gonna die screaming, but you won't be heard..."

Lydia slowly turns to get the fuck away from here, but as she does she finally sees it, a flash of the most hideous face and then -

Lydia wakes with a start, finds herself sitting back in her seat in class. The first thing she sees is Kira's look of concern, and the first thing she hears is the bell finally ringing to signal the end of the lecture.

"Okay, folks, I'll see you all in a month for your final review." Professor Charles pipes up, sending one last smile to her students. "Have a good break." Then, with a smirk, adds, "But not TOO good!"

Kira chuckles to herself as she packs up her books and papers. She throws her rucksack over her shoulder and makes her way towards the banshee.

"Hey, are you going back to Beacon Hills for your break?" Not that Lydia needs to ask, but she knows if she doesn't, she will only have to explain herself to the kitsune about her little daydream. Because she literally has never fallen asleep in class like that.

"Yeah," Kira nods, wears an excited grin. "Scott's coming to pick me up tomorrow morning. What about you? Are you gonna go see Jordan?"

"Yeah, probably." Lydia smiles, curses herself mentally when she blushes. "I mean, technically, we're not together. We haven't even had sex."

"Really?" Kira's eyes widen. "But you've been courting for almost a fricking year!"

"Did you seriously just say 'courting'?" Lydia arches a brow, can't help smirking.

"Yeah, my dad says it." Kira huffs. "And don't change the subject!"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "It's not like we've had the time. And you can't really talk, because look how long it took you and Scott. I mean, ugh! You guys made me want to rip my pretty hair out of my even prettier head."

Kira chuckles at her words, shakes her head lightly. "Whatever. Besides, he still wasn't over Allison and -"

"Oh, please! Even after he got over, he acted like a total wuss." Lydia chides as they shuffle out of the class room and down the busy corridors.

"So, uh, that class was pretty awesome, huh?"

Lydia almost rolls her eyes at how lamely casual she tries to sound.

"I mean, the last twenty minutes were a total revelation. Professor Charles just laid out everything we need for the final right in front of us." Kira says excitedly, then, cheekily adds, "Boy, would I have hated to have missed THAT!"

Lydia finally shoots her a pathetic glare, then, winces and pleads, "Just tell that I didn't snore."

Kira chuckles. "You were VERY discrete, I promise... Minimal drool, no worries."

Lydia huffs, "Oh, yay."

"So, come on, were you dreaming?" Kira asks, nay, practically begs.

And Lydia sighs, because she could never say no to this annoyingly adorable and chipper girl. "Yeah." She curses herself mentally again when she feels her cheeks flush heavily. "It was actually kind of intense..."

"Intense? Really? I mean, you looked so peaceful."

Lydia swirls around at the sound of that all too familiar voice, gasps softly as her eyes widen. "Jordan? Wh-what're you doing here?"

"Thought I'd surprise you." Jordan grins, practically fricking beams.

Kira chuckles. "Hey, how're the gang?"

"They're good." Jordan nods. "Stiles and Malia are engaged. He proposed last week."

"Finally." Lydia sighs out of relief.

Jordan chuckles. "Yeah... So, tell me more about this "intense" dream of yours.

Lydia shoots him a playful glare, though, only to ignore her constant blush.

"Hey, I'll let you two catch up and meet you later." Kira says, looking at the redhead.

"You sure?" Lydia asks.

"Yeah." Kira smiles. "Have fun."

And Lydia can only glare at her when she winks and then dashes off, leaving her alone with the (gorgeous, perfect) deputy.


	2. Totally Gross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah," Lydia huffs. "It was totally gross. I mean, I almost threw up, and I didn't even know you could do that in dreams."

[Deaton's Apartment - Twelve Hours Later...]

"It does sound vaguely familiar, I have to admit." Deaton nods, mostly to himself as he reads the words over and over, his notepad in one hand and the phone in his other, pressed to his ear.

"Oh, good. I was hoping you'd say something like that." Lydia sighs heavily.

"Are you sure you've never heard it as a child?" Deaton asks as he slowly rises from his desk.

"Nope." Lydia says, "Though, it sounds familiar, like you said. I just don't remember where I've heard it. Which is strange, because it's not like me to forget. Especially when it's as creepy as this dream was."

"And the little girl you said was -"

"Me. And she - I was holding a little, wooden box with a still-beating heart in it."

"Okay..." Deaton blinks at that. But again, this, too, sounds rather familiar to him. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Lydia huffs. "It was totally gross. I mean, I almost threw up, and I didn't even know you could do that in dreams."

Deaton rolls his eyes, but can't help smiling in amusement. "I meant about the demon you saw in your dream."

"Oh, right... Nope, nothing else. It's like I already told you; there were seven of them, all identical with the creep wide smile and silver teeth and bald heads and black eyes and pasty white skin... Oh, and did I already mention that they were all wearing black and white suits? I mean, what's with that? Demons have tailors, now? Seriously? Is that a thing?"

"I'm not too sure about that." Deaton's smirk widens, because he can't help it and he can't literally hear her shivering in disgust.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, Deats." Lydia realises she's just word vomiting now. "I'm just so tired. Stupid summer traffic, I didn't get to town 'til this morning."

"It's quite alright." Deaton assures her. "Why don't you get some rest, while I try to figure out if this dream of yours has any possible meaning."

"Well, knowing my luck, it probably does." Lydia grumbles.

Deaton grins. "Goodnight, Lydia."

"Night, Doc'."

Deaton chuckles lightly as he hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket. He grabs the notepad and shuffles out of his office, down the hallway and into the living room.

"Did you tell Lydia I said hi?"

Deaton arches his brow over at the smug-shit (as ever) werewolf sprawled across his couch. "No."

Peter shoots him a pathetic glare. "Why not?"

"Um, because she hates you." Deaton states, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Peter shoots him a withering look, but doesn't bother to answer. Instead, he reaches into his large bag of popcorn, and continues to shove his face with his buttery treat.

"Anyway, have you ever heard of a group of demons called 'the Gentlemen'?" Deaton asks as he settles down in his usual chair.

"Nope." Peter chirps, still stuffing his face, and not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the television.

"You're certain?" Deaton arches a brow, like he doesn't quite believe the wolf.

"No. Never heard of 'em." Peter says. "Oh, and we're out of pop tarts."

Deaton glares at him. "We're out of pop tarts, because you ate them all. Again."

"Yeah," Peter nods, clearly not paying any attention. "You should probably go buy some more."

Deaton's glare darkens. "I thought werewolves preferred meat."

Peter shrugs. "Yeah, well, I like to crumbled the pop tarts over a raw steak or two on a full moon, obviously. It gives it that nice, crispness."

Deaton tries not to vomit and he replies, "Well, since the vivid image you just painted in my mind for me means that I will never again be able to look at food the same way, you'll have to go out and pick some up for yourself. And that's the very least you can do," He sends the wolf a pointed glare. "Since you refuse to pay any rent." He then, eyes the wolf curiously. "I thought you were rich?"

"I am." Peter huffs. "But technically, everything was left under Derek's name. And guess who's not big on sharing with their beloved uncle?"

Deaton scoffs. "Beloved?" Then, rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

"Ass." Peter mumbles out, glaring at Stiles as he suddenly enters with Malia following closely behind.

"Do none of you think to knock anymore?" Deaton grumbles, and of course, like he predicts, he is completely ignored.

"Seriously, Malia, I don't get where all of this is suddenly coming from." Stiles looks cluelessly at his fiancee.

"Well, really, what the hell am I supposed to think?" Malia snips, half-heartedly glaring back at up at him.

"How the fuck can you think that I'm just using you!?" Stiles shrieks - how very manly of him.

Peter arches a brow, only half interested by the sudden commotion. It's not like he doesn't care about his daughter, he just doesn't care about her love life.

"Well, you don't care about what I think. Not really. You and Scott and the others all just think I'm dumb. But I've got other smarts!"

"Malia, baby, have you met Scott?" Stiles shoots her a "seriously?" look. "He's not exactly the smartest guy around."

"Well, you don't ever ask about my day!" Malia snaps. "I always ask you about your stupid day! Even though it bores the crap out of me."

"Wow, really feeling the love here." Stiles mumbles with slightly widened eyes. He then, winces when she only glares at him. It's not his fault, he can't help himself. He makes jokes uncontrollably whenever he's scared or nervous or upset or angry or ever.

"Wow, you really did turn into a real girl, didn't you?" Peter chuckles.

Malia shoots him a murderous glare. "Stay outta this! And do not encourage him!"

Deaton huffs, finally pulls himself from his seat and retreats to the content silence of his kitchen to make some fresh coffee.

"All you do is make jokes!" Malia glares back at the spark. "You clearly don't care about me, at all."

Stiles sighs heavily. "Malia," He grabs her hands in his own, surprised that she even let's him when he expected a punch in the face. Again. "I care about you. A lot. I am in total love with you, baby. For crying out loud, we're getting married! I mean, do you even understand how much of a big deal that is to me?"

"How much?"

Stiles blinks. "What?"

"How much do you care about me?" Malia asks, an expectant look on her face.

"Why don't we talk about this later?"

"No." Malia scowls. "I wanna talk about it right now, right here."

"Look, Malia, if you don't know how much I care about you -"

"I don't!" Malia snaps angrily. "This isn't a relationship! All you care about is having lots and lots of orgasms!"

"Oh, please!" Deaton exclaims from the kitchen in exasperation.

Peter simply looks amused beyond belief as he watches the idiot kid pale with mortification before burning red with embarrassment.

"Uh, Malia," Stiles says, tries to sound calm and collected. "Remember when we talked about private conversations? And how they're less private in front of my friends?"

"Oh, we're not friends." Peter waves a dismissive hand at Stiles as he grins at his daughter.

"Please," Stiles scoffs at the wolf. "I was talking about Deaton."

Peter humours him with a mocking pout, unable to help smirking in utter amusement. "Please, go on."

"Please, don't." Stiles begs her.

Malia huffs. "It's important."


	3. Orgasm Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, y'mean, like, an orgasm friend?" Malia asks.

"Yes, but why is it important here?" Deaton huffs out as he re-enters the living room with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. "I agree with Stiles; this is a conversation best only between the two of you."

Malia huffs loudly, but looks rather defeated as she realises that maybe she is in the wrong here. Not that she'll ever admit that. Out loud anyway.

"So, my dad said you wanted me to swing by...?" Stiles quickly moves the conversation along, glances curiously towards the Druid.

"Yes," Deaton nods. "But it wasn't urgent. I just need you to take Peter home with you for a few days."

"What!?" Stiles splutters.

"What!?" Peter hisses.

Deaton sighs, but before he can even open his mouth -

"I'm not staying with him!" Peter finally rises from the couch, points a finger at the human.

"Hey!" Stiles glares back at the wolf, clearly offended.

"It's just for a few days." Deaton reminds them. "I'm having a friend stay over." He then, pointedly adds, "And we'd like to be alone."

Stiles arches a brow, looks mildly intrigued.

Peter scoffs, looks downright livid.

Although, both are clearly not very happy right now.

"Oh, y'mean, like, an orgasm friend?" Malia asks. She's as blunt as she is ever curious.

Stiles briefly chokes on his own saliva. He doesn't know whether to laugh out loud or blush with embarrassment.

Peter can't help smirking in amusement at that.

"Yes." Deaton stares at the coyote. "Thank you, Malia. That's certainly the most appalling thing you could have said."

Malia stares blankly, clearly not understanding the boundaries. It's been a few years since she's lived as a human, sure, but she's still learning.

"Fine. Whatever." Stiles huffs. "But he's not dossing around the place." He and the wolf glare at one another as he speaks. "He's gonna stay tied the fuck up, or he can stay on the streets."

"What!?" Malia whines, "But what about our romantic weekend that we had planned?"

"Oh, God!" Peter looks like he's about to vomit, then, glares over at Deaton. "I am not sticking around to listen to my daughter and her idiot boyfriend screwing in the next room!"

Deaton sighs loudly in exasperation as he plops lazily down on the couch.

"Gee, that's not exactly one of my fantasies, either!" Stiles snips back, glares over at the wolf once again.

Malia rolls her eyes at their constant bickering. She almost looks as tired as the Druid, though, more annoyed, less exhausted.

"Well, you are a little on the weird side, so I wouldn't put it passed you!" Peter bites back.

"You are a sick, little bitch!" Stiles squeals, looks mortified.

Peter smirks smugly, clearly enjoys getting Stiles - anyone's skin.

While Malia glares at her boyfriend, and Deaton dies a little on the inside again.

+

"So, the kitsune group were no-kitsunes?"

Kira arches a brow as they walk through the busy shopping mall.

Lydia grins. "See what I did there?"

"I see. Nice wordplay." Kira nods, chuckles. "And yeah." She huffs, looks beat. "They were basically just a bunch of folklore nerds."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Lydia shoots her a sympathetic look, because, "I know how excited you were to finally meet more of your kind."

"Thanks." Kira shoots her a grateful smile in return. "And it's not like I'm completely alone. I mean, I still have my mom."

"Exactly." Lydia nods. Then, to lighten her friend's mood, she jokingly adds, "The only other banshee I ever met turned out to be a loony and the employee of a bunch of assassins that tried to kill us all."

"True." Kira nods in agreement. Then, grins slyly as she asks, "So, what's going on with you and the deputy?"

Lydia arches a brow.

Kira scoffs. "Don't even try to play dumb. You're not dumb, Lydia. That cat was out of the bag a long time ago, according to Stiles."

Lydia rolls her eyes, but can't help smiling lightly with amusement.

"Besides, I saw how cosy you two were yesterday." Kira wiggles her eyebrows and grins suggestively.

Lydia shoots her a withering look. Though, her cheeks do redden slightly. "Replay our kitsune cult conversation; talk. All talk." She huffs, clearly looks disappointed. "And nothing, but talk."

Kira frowns. "Well, what the hell is he waiting for!?" She growls out her frustration.

"I dunno." Lydia smirks, unable to help adding, "Maybe I should ask Scott."

Kira shoots the redhead a playful glare. "You're so funny, I could bleed to death."

Lydia scoffs in amusement at her words.

"Do I have to handcuff you two together?" Kira smirks smugly when she sees the banshee blush heavily.

"Well, we when we finally got back to my place last night, we almost..." Lydia huffs, looks rather glum. "But then, he got a call and had to go into work."

"Well, I'm sure everything will work out good in the end." Kira smiles brightly, reassuringly. "It always does."

+

[The Next Day...]

"Yeah, this isn't working out so good for me." Peter is annoyed to find that while he's tied to a recliner chair in Stiles and Malia's apartment, Stiles, he realises, isn't as stupid as he always thought. He's laced the rope that binds Peter with wolfsbaine, and to say the Peter is pissed off, would be an understatement.

However, Stiles scoffs as he plops down on the couch. "Yeah, well, it is for me." He sighs contently as he grabs the remote and switches the television on.

"I don't see why I need to be tied up." Peter huffs loudly.

Stiles sighs tiredly. "It's just of a night time. Y'know... While we're sleeping."

"Like I'd attack my own daughter." Peter shoots him a withering look.

"Exactly." Stiles shoots him a pointed look in return.

Peter rolls his eyes, but sighs lightly with defeat. "As much as I'd love to tear your annoying throat out, Stiles, I can give you my word that I won't."

Stiles narrows his eyes, clearly sceptical.

"As long as you keep Malia happy." Peter rolls his eyes again, turns his gaze back to the television to keep this sappy conversation from going on any longer.

Stiles smiles to himself secretly as he, too, turns his focus back to the screen. He's surprised, of course, but he also doesn't really give a shit. He hates Peter. And Peter hates him. He doesn't need that douchebag's approval.

For a while, they both sit in somewhat comfortable silence, just watching the television.

However, it's not long before Peter begins to bore. He smirks, then, an idea suddenly springing to mind. "'Stiles, don't you care about me?'" He taunts, makes sure to put on a high-pitched voice for good measure.

Stiles slowly turns his head to look at the wolf. His eyes are slightly widened, but not in shock. He looks slightly incredulous before he glares. "Shut up."

But Peter's nowhere near done. "'We never talk.'" He pouts for emphasis.

"Shut. Up." Stiles grits out, now glaring fully, murderously.

Peter smirks to himself, doesn't even bother to look away from the brightly lit screen. He surrenders, then, but only for a few moments.

The wolf waits, watches from his peripherals as he let's Stiles get comfortable.

Stiles nudges himself comfortably back into his couch, huffs loudly and snuggles up to watch the rest of his show.

It's then that Peter finally strikes - nay, sings out the boy's name; "'Stiiiiiiiiles!'"

And predictable, Stiles snaps. "Shut the fuck up, motherfucker!"


	4. Enough Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think that's enough talking..."

"'They need to take seven, and they might take your's...'" Deaton frowns down at the notepad in his lap, thinking long and hard, like he has been doing so for the last three hours at least. "Take seven what?" He ponders aloud to himself just as the doorbell rings.

Deaton smiles to himself, excitement bubbling away in his gut as he places the notepad onto the coffee table. He rises from the couch, quickly straightens his shirt out before walking over to the front door.

Natalie Martin is standing there, looking as stunning as ever. She greets him with her usual beaming smile.

"Natalie." Deaton breathes out, smiling broadly.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late." Natalie says. "The flight was just terrible."

"Yes. Awful weather for this time of year." Deaton says standing aside to let her in.

Natalie shoots him a grateful smile and nods in response as she enters his home. She smiles to herself, loving how warm and cosy it always feels.

"Here," Deaton holds out his hands. "Let me take your coat."

"You're such a gentleman." Natalie grins over her shoulder at him as she slides the soaking trench coat over her shoulders.

Deaton flushes heavily, his heart racing. He smiles rather coyly as he turns to hang her coat over one of the dining room wooden chairs.

Natalie grins wickedly to herself as she watches him for a few moments. She loves making him squirm. He's just so adorable. Nothing like her usual type. But that's what makes her like him all the more.

"Would you like a drink?" Deaton asks, polite as ever.

"No, thank you." Natalie replies as she saunters slowly over to him.

Deaton gulps silently, frozen in place as she looks at him like she's going to swallow him whole. Which, he really wouldn't complain about...

"Now," Natalie slides her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to link her fingers around the back of his neck. "I think that's enough talking..." She trails off as she pulls him down and presses her lips against his.

Deaton let's out a content sigh as his arm automatically slide down to rest at her waist.

And it's nothing like the way he felt for Talia, but it's pretty fucking close.

+

Peter huffs, but gets as comfortable as he can on this cheap and crappy recliner...

+

Malia elbows Stiles and glares over her shoulder at him, because he just won't sit the fuck still.

And Stiles can only grin sheepishly back at her...

+

Liam smiles to himself as Mason snuggles further into the wolf's side before letting his eyes finally droop shut...

+

Deaton grins broadly to himself as Natalie curls against him, already sleeping soundly...

+

Kira giggles quietly to herself as Scott continues to snore softly and drool on the pillow beside her...

+

Jordan rubs a hand over his tired features as he continues with his stupid paperwork, the dim lamp on his desk causing him to squint and his brain to ache...

+

Lydia sighs gloomily, sitting all alone in her apartment with a bottle of red wine, glaring at the television and popping a toffee into her mouth every so often...

+

[The Next Morning...]

"Can't even shout... HELP!"

Lydia startles awake, shaken by her dream - nightmare. She glances around, squinting as the early morning sunlight blinds her. She's still sitting on her living room couch, curtains forgotten and still open.

Lydia whimpers, her head pounding when she realises the bottle of wine is completely empty. She sighs, shoving the blankets off of her and retreating to the bathroom.

After getting dressed and drinking a very large mug of fresh, hot coffee, Lydia grabs her keys, phone and wallet before heading out.

When she gets out of her apartment building and onto the streets, Lydia sees a young woman running towards her. She frowns, concerned when she sees the woman's crying and tries to stop her, but the woman just runs right passed her and down the street.

Lydia, confused, stares after her for a moment. She goes to follow her, but then, notices a few other people running around with the same upset and terrified expression on their faces.

One man is banging loudly and desperately on the front door of a house, on the opposite side of the street.

"What the fuck is going -" Lydia stops mid-sentence when she realises that nothing is coming out of her mouth. That she can't hear her own voice.

"What -" She tries again, her eyes widening in terror when nothing comes out, again.

Lydia quickly runs over to the man still pounding desperately on the front door and taps his shoulder.

He swirls around, eyes wide with fear.

Lydia holds her hands up, offers a friendly smile.

He seems to relax when his eyes land on her.

Lydia points to her mouth, mouthing the words, "Can you speak?" as clearly as she possibly can.

The man shakes his head furiously, looks visibly shaken.

Lydia nods, gently places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

'Seriously,' The banshee thinks, 'What the fuck is happening!?'

+

Scott rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he slowly sits up in bed. He smiles brightly when his mate enters the room, wearing only one of his shirts, and holding a fresh cup of hot chocolate. His nose twitches, his mouth watering at both the sight and the smell.

Kira smiles back at him. "Morning." Her face drops slightly when nothing comes out, no words at all.

Scott, being a little slow, especially in the mornings, doesn't quite register. "Morning." That is, until it happens to him, too. His face drops, too, then. He frowns, confused, then clears his throat and tries again. "Morning." His eyes widen, then, as he very clearly begins to freak out.

"Scott?" Kira mouths out, her eyes, too, widening in fear.

"I'm deaf! I think I've gone deaf!" Scott mouths, hopping out of the bed and motioning to his ears.

Kira shakes her head furiously, and points to her throat.

Scott breathes out hard, trying to find his voice, and when he doesn't, it only freaks him out all the more.

Kira holds both his hands in her own, breaths slowly and motions for him to do so, as well.

Scott nods wildly, takes a few deep breaths.

"Deaton." Kira mouths.

Scott simply nods, the both of them quickly separating to find some clothes.

+

"Anything?" Mason mouths.

Liam shakes his head, having tried at least a thousand times to talk by now.

Mason sighs, then, mouths, "Scott?"

Liam nods, the both of them quickly grabbing their jackets before heading out of their apartment.

+

Jordan panics, much like the panicked rush going on in the station around him right now. He doesn't think his phone rings, he just answers it.

"Hello? ...Hello!? FUCK!" Jordan mouths, gritting his teeth in annoyance when nothing comes out. He hangs up, tossing his phone across the room in anger.

+

Deaton pulls Natalie into a hug as they continue to help one another figure out just what the fuck is going on. Books are spread around them as they sit on his bed and hold one another, hoping that they can figure it out.

+

Stiles is freaking out even more than his best friend right now. His eyes are wide with both shock and fear. His hands flying wildly about as he contorts his face before trying to scream out words. Any fucking words! Just words!

Malia rolls her eyes as she stands with her arms crossed, leaning in the living room doorway with a bored look on her face. Of course, she's a little freaked out, too. But she's not... Well, she's not Stiles. Not that she doesn't love him. Because she really does. Most of the time anyway.

Peter's still bound to his shitty recliner, and wears a similar look to his daughter. Only, he looks a little more amused with the spark.

Stiles finally stops, turns to the wolf with a furious glare. "You did this!" He mouths out in anger, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You fucking did this! You bastard!" And it only infuriates him all the more that he can't hear his own angry ranting.

Peter simply flips him the middle finger.

Stiles glares back at him for all of three seconds before rushing towards his phone. He swipes it up off of the coffee table and dials Scott's number without thinking. Obviously.

Peter simply stares at the spark, as if to say, "Is he serious?"

"Hel -" Stiles blinks, finally realises. "Hello! NO! SHIT!" He tosses his phone, without thinking, smashes it as it hits the walls. "SHIT! SHIT ON IT!"

Malia arches a brow at the pile of plastic and glass.

Peter bites his lip to keep from grinning.

And Stiles simply has a nervous breakdown.


	5. Breaking News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We have this breaking news item from Beacon Hills, California."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not uploading much at all recently. I've been so busy with work, and now, I've broken my ankle, so that complicates life in general for me. Ugh!
> 
> Anyway, now that I'm immobile for at least a few weeks, I should be able to upload a lot more.
> 
> Good times.  
> :)
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts?
> 
> Thanks for reading!

[The Next Day...]

Things are very much the same, still. And it's not just the pack, it's the entire town.

Only God knows if it's the entire country.

Or world, even...

+

Lydia and Kira make their way through the streets of Beacon Hills.

Needless to say, everything is quiet. However, there is still a great deal of activity going on around the town.

The girls walk hand in hand, needing the comfort of one another's presence as they walk slowly and take in all of the commotion.

Over the main bank, their is a sign that reads: 'SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED!' The building's metal shutters are all locked down, too, much like most of the shops along the main street.

Although, the liquor store seems to be the only one open. And there's also a very long line of people hanging out of the door.

Lydia and Kira both arch their brows before rolling their eyes in unison and walking on.

There is one man, who wears an expensive looking suit, but who sits in the middle of the vacant road, crying his eyes out. Though, the girls know they can do nothing for him.

At least, not right now.

Of course, everyone in the pack has their own theory of what's happened.

Now, if only they could speak it...

The girls walk on to see a small gathering of people outside the commercial magic shop. They approach the group with intrigue, seeing some people on their knees, praying and others just handing out comfort and support, and coffee.

Lydia perks up at the FREE coffee, grabs a cup for her and one for Kira and thanks the preacher with a bright smile.

Kira smiles gratefully as she takes the cup of steaming liquid. She sips daintily at her fresh beverage and points with her free hand.

Lydia turns around to see a man across the street, selling mini whiteboards and black sharpie pens. She turns back to her friend, grins and nods.

Kira smiles as she follows after the redhead.

Lydia pulls a horrified expression at the man when she realises the price is nearly fifty bucks. Okay, she's rich, but he doesn't know that.

The man, who already has his own whiteboard laced around his neck on a string quickly scribbles something down.

Lydia glances to the writing that reads; 'What's the problem, lady?" She scoffs, glares at him as she snatches the pen and writes her reply underneath - 'I'm not paying that rip-off price and don't call me lady!'

The man sighs heavily and writes his reply; 'Times are tough. Gimme a break.'

Lydia huffs loudly when Kira shoots her a look. "Fine!" She mouths, finally throwing her hands up in surrender.

Kira smirks.

+

[Deaton's Apartment - 2 Hours Later...]

Almost all of the pack are here, the ones already here, now, just waiting for the rest to trickle in.

Deaton is sitting at the dining room table, lost in mountains of papers and books as he continues his research.

Stiles and Malia take up the small couch, the television on mute in front of them as they wait for some kind of bulletin.

Natalie sits beside Deaton, a strong glass of whiskey in her hand. And while she knows all about the supernatural, she's still clearly the least prepared for all of this.

Scott, Liam and Mason take up the bigger couch, all bored out of their minds.

And meanwhile, Peter simply snores his head off in the chair by the warm fireplace, oblivious to everything around him.

Finally then, the front door opens and Lydia saunters in with Kira, who closes the door quietly behind them.

Of course, Kira goes straight over to Scott, him pulling her down to sit on his lap and hugging her close.

"What's this?" Scott mouths, pointing to the mini whiteboard strung around his mate's neck.

Kira smiles, quickly grabs her sharpie and scribbles down her answer. 'Walkie-talkie boards. They're selling these on every street right now. Lydia bought one for everyone.'

And as Scott reads her reply, he finishes just in time to see the redhead handing out the last mini whiteboard to him. "Thanks." He mouths and smiles gratefully.

Lydia nods, smiles back before sauntering back over. She taps him on the shoulder to get his attention. She motions to the table full of papers and books and mouths, "Anything?"

Kira slips out of her wolf's grip, and simply shoots him a grin when he pouts up at her. She bounds over to the table, smiling bright as she scribbles something down and shows it to the vet.

Deaton smiles warmly when he reads the; 'Hi, Deaton!' and sees the small smiley face underneath. He chuckles silently, and wraps her up in a one-armed fatherly hug.

Kira squeezes him back affectionately, while Natalie smiles in amusement.

"You okay?" Lydia mouths to her mother when their eyes lock.

Natalie smiles as brightly as she can as she replies with a nod.

Lydia knows better than that, but decides not to make things worse right now. She knows all about her mother's (weird) relationship with the vet. And while she finds it all very... Weird, she can't help feeling happy for them both.

"Drink?" Natalie mouths, motioning to the empty glass in her own hands.

"God, yes." Lydia deflates with a huff, but a smile nonetheless.

Natalie grins, rises from her feet and taps her lover's shoulder.

Deaton instantly tears his eyes away from his many, many books and glances up at the stunning woman.

Natalie motions to her empty glass again.

Deaton shakes his head, smiles politely.

"Tea?" Natalie mouths, arches a brow and shoots him a knowing look.

Deaton blushes lightly at the delicious look she seems to give him whenever she looks his way, the look that makes him shiver to the marrow of his bones with sheer excitement. He clears his throat at his wondering thoughts, nods furiously as he looks away out of embarrassment.

Natalie merely grins to herself as she slowly saunters off towards the kitchen.

Stiles suddenly bolts up from the couch, grabs the remote along the way. He swirls around and snaps his fingers loudly to gain the group's attention. And when he succeeds, he points to the television before taking it off of mute.

Malia grabs the remote from her mate, turning the volume up so that Natalie can hear from the kitchen.

The others all gather around just as a special news report pops up onto the screen.

\- "We have this breaking news item from Beacon Hills, California." -

The pack all glance warily to one another, all noting that clearly, whatever is happening, is only happening in their town.

Naturally.

It is Beacon Hills.

Beacon for the supernatural.

And terrifying...

\- "Apparently, the entire town has been quarantined due to a serious epidemic of - as strange as this sounds - laryngitis. It seems that all residents of the town have been literally rendered unable to speak at all. There is no word yet of what might be causing this or of what other symptoms this epidemic may be causing. Local authorities have issued a written statement which put the blame on recent flu vaccinations." -

Stiles arches a brow at that. 'Yeah,' He thinks. 'Good one, dad.'

\- "A few sceptics are calling it a city-wide hoax. However, in the meantime, Beacon Hills has been completely shutdown. No one is to leave, or to enter. And effectively, all stores, schools and public areas have been closed for the time being. And residents have been advised to stay at home and rest up until any further information comes to light." -

Lydia scoffs at that, a "what-the-fuck-ever!" look slapped across her annoyed face.

Scott looks more worried than anything else.

Deaton looks relieved, though. Because now, at least, he knows how far this - whatever the heck this is that's happening - goes. Plus, having to worry about a few less billion people is always a good thing, too.

\- "The Centre for Disease Control has ordered the entire town into quarantine. No one, as I said before, is to leave or enter the town. At least, not until either the syndrome is identified or the symptoms, for whatever reason, disappear." -

It's Liam's turn to scoff this time. 'What?' He thinks bitterly. 'They're just gonna wait for us to either die or get better? That's their plan!? What the fuck!?'

\- "We will bring more news, as it happens. Until then, thank you for listening -" -

Stiles huffs, too, grabbing the remote and muting the television once again.

Malia grabs her mini whiteboard, scribbles something down before holding it up for the pack to see. 'Well, that was no help at all.'

Scott simply nods as the group all disperse and retreat back to their previous places.

Lydia sighs contently, however, when her mother hands her a glass of red whine.

After a brief written conversation, Scott and Kira share a nod of agreement. The wolf laces his fingers through the fox's hand as they walk over to the wise Druid.

Deaton notices their approach and shoots them both a questioning look.

"Keep researching for now." Scott mouths, pointing back to the "research" littered table.

Deaton nods, mouths, "Of course." Then arches a brow at the Alpha and mouths, "What're you going to do?"

"We're gonna patrol the town. See if anything comes up." Scott mouths as Kira nods along.

Deaton nods just as Lydia shuffles quickly over to them.

"What's wrong?" Kira mouths towards the redhead, looks slightly concerned for her friend.

"Nothing." Lydia offers a reassuring smile as she elegantly places her half-empty wine glass down on the table. She turns around to face the couple and smiles sweetly as she mouths, "I'm coming with you."

"Why?" Scott arches a brow, looks slightly confused. But that's nothing new. In fact, it's normal.

"Because," Lydia pouts, then mouths, "I'll go crazy if I stay here and do nothing."

Kira shoots her wolf a look, as if to say, "Just let her come with us."

Scott huffs, but nods, all too easily giving in. "Whatever." He mouths with a roll of his eyes as Kira slips her hand out of his to link her arm with Lydia. He glares at them both briefly before huffing and turning towards the front door.

Kira giggles silently, while Lydia smirks smugly.


	6. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of the ordeal, things being very much the same. Beacon Hills is a quite place, for now.

Day two of the ordeal, things being very much the same. Beacon Hills is a quite place, for now. The streets, practically a ghost town by the time the small clock tower strikes eight. The sun begins to set, and what little of the people are left on the streets are also quickly hurrying home as fast as they possibly can.

Lydia is one among those very few people, but she is the only one walking aimlessly around. She takes in the chaos, abandoned shop buildings, a burst water hydrant and a few smashed up cars. She turns another street corner, only too see a familiar face.

Jordan stands between two men, the younger of the men trying to throw punches at the older man. Jordan shoves the younger man back and shoots him a stern look as he motions towards the handgun on his belt.

The younger man glares back at the deputy, but slowly backs off.

Jordan turns back to face the older man, smiles kindly as he straightens out the man's suit for him.

Lydia stalks over when she sees the younger man launch himself at Jordan. She comes up behind him and grabs his throat and shoves him backwards.

The younger man falls to the ground, lands on his backside. His eyes widen at the strength of this woman. And predictably, he scrambles up onto his feet before fleeing.

Jordan gives the redhead an impressed smirk and nod of approval.

Lydia rolls her eyes, but can't help smiling.

Jordan turns to face the other man when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Thank you." The man mouths, and smiles gratefully.

Jordan nods and claps him warmly on the shoulder.

Lydia waits until the man walks away before throwing her arms around the deputy's waist.

Jordan grins as he wraps his arms around the back of her shoulders.

Lydia pulls her head away from his chest and mouths up to him. "I missed you."

Jordan grins down at her. "I missed you, too."

Lydia smirks before sliding her hands around his neck and pulling his head down for their lips to finally meet.

+

[12:00:AM...]

The Gentlemen.

That is their only known name.

Not that they have ever heard it.

Not that they ever will.

And they definitely don't wish that.

Their world is silence. Their survival depends upon it.

Well, that, and still-beating hearts. They take seven, because that is how many brothers there are; how many of them there are and have ever been.

What they lack in beauty, they make up for in grace. They don't walk, only glide, floating mere inches off of the ground.

Dressed in black formal suits, they're eyes are pale blue and bloodshot with large black, smokey rings around them. Their grins are permanent, lips as white as their pasty faces and shiny, bald heads.

They move, but they are not physical. They're somewhat frozen in time, hands clasped together and only coming apart when they have to feed.

They feed once every seven years. They take seven of the healthiest hearts they can find. They take one each night, but they don't devour them until the seventh day, their last day before they must retreat into a sort of demon hibernation. Waiting for the next seven years to pass.

And they are not alone. The gentledrones; their muscle.

Even uglier creatures than their masters.

They're are fourteen of them.

Two bodyguards and slaves for each of the Gentlemen.

They sway with zombie-like movements, but are surprisingly very nimble and quick on their feet. Although, they are not the brightest thinkers. They're the muscle for a reason, after all.

They drift along with their masters' slow paces, weaving in and out of one another as they sift through the quiet town.

The Gentlemen know that the humans have locked themselves up in their homes. They're frightened, and that makes the blood pump deliciously faster and harder through their hearts.

Besides that, gaining entry is no problem at all for the demons. 

They simply knock, after drifting around the ghost town and finally selecting their second target. They're old fashioned like that. Besides, it always works like a charm. It's all very human. And hilarious.

One of the gentledrones makes a violent motion towards the front door, but his master, the leader of and eldest of the Gentlemen brothers wags his finger 'no.'

The gentledrones back away, allowing the Gentlemen to knock on the front door.

A few moments pass, and when the young man opens his front door his eyes widen in horror. He tries to slam the door shut, but it soon barged out of the way by the drones.

The drones grab a hold of the man's arms and legs. He struggles, but fails to escape as they lay him down on the couch.

The man screams, but nothing comes out.

The Gentlemen float into the room, one of the drones closing the door quietly behind them.

The man continues to scream silently and struggle fruitlessly against the drones, who simply hold him down.

The second Gentlemen motions towards the man.

One of the drones leans over and rips the man's shirt open, revealing his chest.

The first Gentlemen floats over to his fourth brother, who opens the small, leather doctor's bag. He pulls out a small, but razor-sharp knife and slowly floats over to the human.

The man's eyes widen in terror as he spots the knife. And the wide, silver-tooth look of disturbingly murderous intent only makes him panic and scream out all the more.

The Gentlemen smiles widely down at the human, then, hold up a finger to his lips and gentle shushes him, though, it's clear the demon has learnt the ways of human sarcasm and irony.

The Gentlemen all gather around their eldest brother, watching him slowly slicing into the human's chest.

Blood spatters lightly as the Gentlemen takes his time. Then finally, he has one hand around the still-beating heart of the human as he gentle severs the arteries. He pulls it out slowly, carefully, treats it for the precious cargo that it really is to he and his brothers.

His seventh, youngest brother is ready for him, small, wooden box open in his hands.

The eldest brothers nods, gently places the heart in the box.

And finally, the drones set the limp and lifeless human free.


End file.
